


Lead False

by Snow Batter (01101000)



Category: UNLOAD (OFF Fangame)
Genre: Body Horror, Frottage, Rape as Revenge, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 11:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12793341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/01101000/pseuds/Snow%20Batter
Summary: 81, consumed by anger and a lust for revenge, makes a horrible decision.





	Lead False

81 clutched his knife tightly, breathing hard.

Finally.  Finally.   _Finally_  he’d gotten that son of a bitch.

What was left of Mark, barely alive, now laid sprawled in a heap on the ground in front of him.  No longer appearing as something horrible and massive, as disgusting on the outside as he was within-- Mark was reduced to just a dying man lying in a pool of his own blood.

81 grinned.  Sure, he himself hadn’t come out of the fight unscathed, but it was  _so_  worth it.  Mark was screwed from the start, for messing with him and his friends!  He was  _made_  to take punches; 81 could deal with being being sore for a few days after this.

“Is this how it goes?” Mark said quietly, voice straining a bit.  “All of us, have fought very well.  **I recognize that. It warms my heart knowing you grew so much.** ”  He tilted his head in 81’s direction, “My loss, I accept it. Give me the final strike, 81.”

 _“With pleasure,”_  81 said, twirling his knife.  Mark’s twisted heart wouldn’t be feeling so warm with a cold steel blade run through it... soon enough.

81 suggested to Zinzo and Ylidomda that they go back to the barns and patch themselves up while he did the honors.  Alright, they said.  They didn’t really want to see it that much, anyway.  His two friends turned and hurried away up the path, and 81 was left alone with Mark.  
Mark was quiet.  Two arms spread out to his sides and body already covered in various lacerations and other wounds, he was practically begging for a good, solid stab in the chest.  81 crouched down beside him.  He lifted his knife and flashed it over where he assumed Mark’s eyes would be, if he’d had any at the moment.

“Do you  _really_  think you deserve a quick, easy death, after all that you’ve done?” 81 hissed.

Mark’s voice was distant.  “ **I cannot say.** ”

81 hopped over, straddling Mark’s torso and kneeling over him.   _“You don’t.”_   The only things that Mark deserved were  _jack_  and  _shit_.  “You deserve to suffer for what you did to him, Mark. But you’re too much of a monster to realize that on your own! So I’m going to teach you a little lesson before I kill you.”

81 slid back, bracing a hand against Mark’s chest, and started to grind against him.  By no means did 81 find the guy attractive in the slightest, but this wasn’t  _about_  that.  This was about cold, hard vengeance, about putting the beast in its place.  His blood was still running hot from their fight, and it didn’t take long for him to get aroused.

A moment, and the ‘X’ in the center of Mark’s face twisted into a spiral shape, his body was stiff.  “What are you doing,” he asked.

“Are you that dense?!” 81 yelled.  He thrust roughly against Mark, eliciting a startled, gasping sound.  Mark shuddered.  81 felt his legs move beneath him, saw his fingers tense, trying to scoot away or maybe flip over, but was too injured to get any purchase on the blood-slick ground.  About time he got the idea.

81 groaned, the squirming only furthering his pleasure as he rolled his hips.  He ached to take both of their pants off, get rid of that tight, unpleasant barrier, but restrained himself.  He’d noticed Mark getting hard, too, and, considering what 81 had seen of the rest of his body, did  _not_  want to know what kind of weird stuff he was packing down there.  As long as he could violate it, that was enough.

Speaking of things about Mark that disgusted him, Mark was ‘flickering’ like mad.  Damaged arms appearing and disappearing, faces changing almost in a blur, blue and yellow flashing on the edges of his shadow making 81’s eyes hurt.  Mark was making a low, guttural sort of screech as he tried to contort himself out from underneath 81; his unstable body wasn’t able to properly shape itself back into its monstrous form.  It felt more like Mark was full of clay or something rather than flesh, 81 thought, then nearly gagged when he felt bones moving under is fingers.

 _Gross, gross, gross_.

“Stop that!” 81 snapped, slashing his knife into Mark’s side (but staying careful not to hit anything vital).  Mark jerked, and a hand shot up towards 81’s face.  81 reacted quickly, and slammed the point of his knife right down its middle, pinning the arm to the ground.  Must have managed to miss that one during the fight, since Mark had so many.

81 twisted the knife lodged in the palm of Mark’s hand and laughed.  Mark looked up at him.   _There_  were his eyes-- lots and lots of eyes.  He wasn’t flickering so much anymore, making a pathetic, rasping, moaning noise.

81 leered down at him.  He pressed Mark harder into the ground, smiling with maniacal glee.  Hot ecstasy built rapidly in his core as he watched Mark writhe and twitch helplessly.  Vainly, feebly thrashing, arching against 81 so  _nicely_.  The familiar feelings of fear and ruin humming in the air were everything he possibly wanted and more.

81 gasped as he came, rightful bliss hitting him so hard he could’ve passed out.  He closed his eyes as he reveled in the warmth for a moment.  When he opened them again, Mark had a wounded arm bent across his face, hiding it.

“What are you doing?” 81 scowled.  He swatted the arm away, but underneath was just Mark’s typical ‘X’.  Mark’s chest rose and fell, breathing labored.  How in the world did he breathe without a mouth?  Terrible.  Despicable.  He should never have been alive in the first place.

“There. Do you get it now?” 81 said, sitting up.  “Do you understand how wrong you were to do what you did?!”  Mark didn’t answer him, remaining nearly silent.  81 scoffed.  Well, at least he felt better about all of it, knowing he’d made Mark suffer before his death.

81 yanked his knife from Mark’s hand.  He made to plunge it in, but sensed something not too far off.

Shoot!  They were coming back!  He had to make this quick.

Adjusting his sitting position into a less lewd one, he grinned wildly and raised the knife high, aiming to plant it deep inside Mark’s heart.

“ **MARK!!!** ”

And in an instant, 81 was knocked off of him and landed smack on his backside.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Mark hadn’t done it.

Oh no.  Oh no.   _Oh no_.

81 watched blankly as Sarah held Mark’s hands in hers, barely listening to all that was being said.  He’d gotten the wrong man.  Even having been created to wreak havoc as he was, he just felt  _bad_.  Like he needed to clean himself off in a long, cold shower.  Like his clothes were so dirty they needed to be burned.

They wanted Mark to join them?  81 couldn’t articulate how awful that would be.  He wanted nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible, try and forget about what he’d done to him.  But he couldn’t explain it without revealing the damnable act he’d committed.

Even without eyes, he could swear he felt Mark staring at him as they sat on the bus.  Judging him, feeling something he couldn’t see.  Neither man said a word to the other.  81 held his legs to his chest, trying to fall asleep, or to vainly come up with an excuse for what had happened.

He had none.

Even though 81 was moving forward, he felt even further from home than he’d been before.


End file.
